


hiding in plain sight

by written_you_down



Series: three [2]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, all of my christmas fics and all of your christmas fics we post them one by one, dan all about the fashion smith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/written_you_down/pseuds/written_you_down
Summary: Three times Dan could've told Kyle, but didn't.
Relationships: Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Series: three [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044069
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	hiding in plain sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iGoToExtremes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iGoToExtremes/gifts).



> happiest of holidays to you, my friend.

The first time Dan could’ve told Kyle, but didn’t, was in 2010.

Technically, the band wasn’t on tour. It was a stretch of consecutive gigs that required a vehicle and overnight travel, which was the closest to an actual tour they’d ever got. They were making the best of the shit van they’d borrowed from a mate of a mate—there were far too many bodies and equipment to fit inside of it.

“This has _got_ to be the worst game of jenga-slash-tetris the world has ever seen,” Kyle remarked as he peered inside of the van. 

He and Dan were the last men out, Woody being the driver and Will claiming some sort of complicated victory of calling dibs on the passenger seat. 

There was an open spot on the first row of the van that looked like it would comfortably sit exactly one person. The only other option was on the back row between Will’s guitar and an amplifier. 

It was late at night, so late that even Dan could feel the call to sleep weighing on the back of his eyelids. The gig had gone well by their standards—no one had fucked up enough for the audience to notice and there had been a handful of people waiting to chat with them at the merch table after. It had taken some time to speak to everyone, adding hours to an already long night.

The venue was a small one and if it had air conditioning, nobody had bothered to switch it on for their set. Dan had never worked out in a gym—because christ why the fuck would he— but he imagined the level of sweat, grime, and funk that settled on his skin during the show was comparable to a rigorous hour of actual exercise. 

Dan was exhausted and knew that he stood a fair chance of getting actual rest if he could claim the spot on the front row. But it seemed like a prick thing to do. After all, Kyle was probably no less tired or grimy, though—as was always the case with Kyle—he certainly didn’t look it. If Dan didn’t appreciate it so much, he would have been a bit jealous of how composed and fucking _good_ Kyle always appeared. 

While Dan stood locked in a web of his thoughts, Kyle stepped up and into the van without a word. Dan watched as Kyle twisted his way into the back row. 

“Kyle. You don’t have to do—“

“It’s fine,” Kyle replied as he somehow found a way to slip past the amp and settle beside it. 

“But you shouldn’t—“

“I don’t mind. Really.”

“We’ll be in here for hours and—“

Will and Woody both groaned and began to speak at the same time: 

“Get in the fucking van, Dan—“

“I’ve celebrated several birthdays in the time it’s taken the two of you—“

Dan shifted his sight from Kyle and looked at the two of them instead. Making sure he was securely in the van (because he could just fucking _see_ Woody driving off and leaving him there) he slowly lifted both hands and extended his middle fingers in the air for their benefit.

“Aw, Wood,” Will smiled. “Do you see that? There’s one for each of us.”

Woody snorted. “Always a thoughtful lad.”

Ignoring them, Dan went about making himself comfortable. He slouched, pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and leaned against the window. He felt the van lurch as Woody put it into drive and soon they were on the road. He felt sleep wrap around him, shut his eyes, and he welcomed it.

Some time later, Dan woke. He blinked slowly as he took in his surroundings. As he recalled how he had gotten there, he sat up and turned to check on Kyle, squinting to be able to see him. Dan waited as they passed a large lorry and was rewarded with enough headlamp to see Kyle properly. 

Kyle was cuddled against the guitar case and fast asleep. 

Dan felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the sight. He hadn’t known Kyle growing up but felt that he could picture Kyle perfectly as a small child after seeing him this way.

As another car sped by the van, Kyle was illuminated once again. Dan studied him at length in a manner he never would’ve dared had Kyle been awake. Dan was overwhelmingly aware of his pulse as it sped along of its own accord and he _knew_. He knew exactly what it meant.

There was nothing for it, nothing to be done. Best to hide it from Kyle. 

One couldn’t ask (alright, fine, beg) someone to join their band and then ask them on a date during their first officially-unofficial-not-a-tour tour. 

Dan turned around and sank back into his seat. As he did, he glanced forward and was met with Woody’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Woody didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Dan had no doubt that Woody knew exactly what he was about. 

Dan looked away and put his headphones on. That was a conversation to be had on another day—preferably never, if he had any say in the matter.

Closing his eyes, Dan tried to summon sleep back into his brain. What he found instead was the image of Kyle, taking one for the team (for Dan specifically, or so he hoped) without complaint. The thought of Kyle snuggled against a guitar case, making the absolute best of it, left little space in Dan’s head for anything else. 

—

The second time Dan could’ve told Kyle, but didn’t, was years later in Germany.

They stood offstage, grouped together, waiting for their cue to walk out and begin one of their most elaborate gigs to date.

Dan was a disaster.

He felt like a phony, like he was pulling off the biggest con of all time. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea before suddenly felt false.

There was a philharmonic waiting for him onstage, waiting to play the songs that had begun in his brain. A choir of legit, actual musicians waiting to sing fucking backup to _him_ , for christ’s sake. Dan worried he wouldn’t be able to pull off a single high note that night. He wasn’t sure if it was the cumulative result of too many late nights or an upcoming cold, but his voice was breaking every time he reached for a note. No one had outwardly said so, but he knew his last rehearsal had been dismal. He hoped he could bury his voice within the choir if he had to but felt shit for not being able to carry his own songs. 

The EU flag was draped over his shoulders, which earlier had felt like an effective way to demonstrate how absolutely wrecked he was over Brexit. He wanted to make the statement that just because the vote had passed—twice—to leave, it didn’t represent all of England. That vote didn’t speak for him and he worried about everything that was to follow it. It was a colossal, major thing and he didn’t know how to voice it. 

Kyle had been the one to tie the knots to secure the flag around his neck. With Kyle standing before him, smiling as he worried with the strings, it seemed to be such a grand idea. 

Thirty seconds from taking the stage, Dan began to feel ridiculous. He looked like an oversized child with a cape, pretending to be a superhero. 

Dan fidgeted with the flag, wondering if it was too late to take it off. He stilled when a hand reached over and covered his own. Glancing up, he found Kyle.

“You look great. Stop worrying,” Kyle said. 

Dan took in Kyle’s words and then his appearance. It was seldom that any of them ever had to make an effort to clean up, to dress properly, but Kyle always looked like a fuckin model when he did. 

Dan was never one to worry over what he wore, but events like this one made him wish he knew what he was doing, made him wish he was an actual adult who knew how to match clothes. Earlier, he had overheard Kyle telling Charlie that he was “probably going to wear a turtleneck, but, like, in a posh way,” and it had sounded like a good idea. 

When Dan turned up on the red carpet that evening wearing a black turtleneck of his own with a white jacket, he realized his mistake. Kyle looked like someone who was on his way to do a fashion shoot for GQ in his and Dan… well, Dan felt like an actual turtle. 

No matter. It was just for an hour or so. Dan had taken loads of awkward, regretful red carpet pictures. He knew how to turn his brain off and go to another place when the cameras flashed. There were probably better solutions, but it was all he had. 

Dan changed clothes and vowed to burn the turtleneck as soon as possible.

“You’re still worrying,” Kyle murmured so only Dan could hear it.

“It’s not just the clothes. My voice is—“

“—is going to be great.”

Dan opened his mouth to protest but found himself crushed against Kyle’s chest as Kyle pulled him close. Dan brought his arms around Kyle to return the embrace because well, it was _Kyle_ and he was Dan. It was what they did. 

Dan focused on Kyle and took a breath. Hugging Kyle didn’t fix Dan’s voice or make him feel less like an idiot-wearing-a-cape, but fuck, it solved just about everything else. 

His thoughts were interrupted when the house lights to the theater went to half capacity and then turned off completely. In that instant, Dan wanted to tell Kyle everything. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, but christ it felt _right_.

“Oi,” Kyle said in his ear. “Get through this set and there’s another hug like this one waiting for you.”

Dan blinked, wondering how Kyle knew that was precisely the sort of motivation that would convince him to do anything? 

Kyle released him with a pat on the back and was the first to take the stage. Dan held back, fidgeting with the flag, with the cuffs of his jacket, with anything he could get his fingers around. He heard the audience cheer as they recognized the others and Dan fucking adored the crowd for loving his mates as much as he did.

The gig was a rollercoaster. 

There were moments that felt so good and so true that he was almost convinced that this was where he was meant to be. There were moments his voice cracked then bounced off the theater’s walls and Dan had to turn his back to the audience to continue on. Each time he turned away and glanced to his left, he found Kyle. Kyle, who stood tall, dressed entirely in black, illuminated by the colorful stage lights. Kyle’s eyes met Dan’s each time, full of a recognition, a warmth that felt as if it were intended only for him. Looking at Kyle, Dan could recenter, recalibrate and move to the next line. 

If deciding to form a band was the most beneficial decision he’d made for his music, begging Kyle to join was the lifeline that kept the whole thing going. 

When Dan’s voice let go of its last note of the evening, he turned, microphone still in hand, and then felt Kyle’s arms wrap securely around his waist. Kyle walked directly into the hug, in front of a thousand people, with no hesitation. Dan made no attempt to disguise his joy. He couldn’t verbalize to Kyle how he felt, but he gave zero fucks if everyone else could see the truth. He felt himself beaming as he settled his chin on top of Kyle’s shoulder and he snuck an arm around Kyle to bring him closer still.

If Dan was hiding, he was hiding in plain sight. 

—

The third time Dan could’ve told Kyle, but didn’t, was during a video chat.

The world was wrecked by a pandemic and nothing was the same. 

Kyle’s face filled the screen of Dan’s laptop, somehow looking even better than Dan remembered. Just seeing him made Dan feel happier than he had since the lockdown began. Why had he waited so long to call Kyle? Texting was such a poor substitution for actually being able to watch Kyle speak, sing, or cackle as he had throughout their call. Hours had flown by as they talked about nothing in particular. 

“It’s mad, innit?” Dan wondered. “How absolutely fucked it is right now?”

“Bonkers,” Kyle confirmed. “This is the most time I’ve ever spent in this flat. If I had known the lockdown was to be this long I would have…” 

Dan’s stupid pulse leapt and though he had no reason to do so, he _hoped_. Hoped that Kyle would say something he hadn’t said before. That maybe—

“…bought more puzzles.”

Dan did his best not to deflate at the completion of Kyle’s sentence. He was foolish to hope for a declaration of anything—but if there was a way to effectively turn that part of his brain off, Dan would have done so long ago.

Instead, he forced a laugh. “We really should think of selling puzzles as merch. We could retire properly on that.” 

“Maybe we could if this thing goes on towards Christmas. We could probably get away with it then. They’d have to be desperate for entertainment.” Dan watched as Kyle raised his eyebrows and frowned in thought. “What’d you reckon we could put on it? Will’s face would probably sell well.”

There was nothing forced or false in Dan’s reaction to that. He laughed as he imagined putting together a 1,000 piece puzzle of Will’s face. What a fucking fantastic way to spend a day or two. 

Kyle flashed a wide grin. “Or we could use an image from your top secret artwork for the new top secret single. It’ll probably be December before you’re done tinkering with it.”

Dan snorted. “Oh, fuck off. It needs work.” 

It did need work. Every time Dan laid down at night, something about the song would spring to the front of his mind and would erase any hope he had of sleep.

“No, Dan. It really, really doesn’t. I’ve heard the latest version. You sent it to me this afternoon, remember?”

Kyle seemed to genuinely enjoy every song Dan played for him. Kyle was just that sort of lad, the one nodding along on the first line, listening to every part of the song, searching for his favourite bits. If only Dan could make music specifically for Kyle, everything would all be so simple. 

Though if Dan was really being honest with himself, he knew that most of the time he _was_ making music just for Kyle. When Dan was alone, notebook in hand, searching for the things that made him feel, it was embarrassing how often his thoughts led to Kyle. He spent a ridiculous amount of time burying those lyrics under multiple layers of instruments, synths, beats and whatever else he could find.

Dan gave a sheepish smile and lifted his shoulders in response. “I might have added—“

“Oh, Christ. You’ve changed it again since then? What have you done?” Kyle shook his head. “You’ve gone and redone the vocals in another language or some other nonsense, haven’t you?”

Dan laughed again. “Nothing as major as all that. I just—“

_Changed the lyrics that were obviously about you_ , Dan’s brain supplied.

“No,” Kyle held up his hands. “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know. You’ll just go and change it again. I can’t go getting all emotionally attached to it again. My heart is too fragile.”

Kyle wasn’t being serious. Dan knew that. There was no chance Kyle was clinging to lyrics that were so clearly about him that Dan could’ve easily titled the track ‘Kyle J Simmons chapter 72.’ 

_Still, what if…_

Dan was feeling a bit reckless. Maybe it was due to the cabin fever brought on from the lockdown, or the delirium that bloomed from seeing Kyle’s face after only having his words on a screen for so long. Whatever the reason, it made Dan feel like telling the truth. 

“This has been good,” Dan announced abruptly. “Good to see you. I’ve missed it. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing you since we started the band.”

Kyle smiled. “I was just thinking about that and…”

Dan held his breath, waiting on Kyle’s reaction.

“…and yeah. I’ve missed it, too.”

Thank fuck. Dan felt like dancing but managed to stay on his sofa. He knew he wouldn’t be able to contain the dopey smile on his face, so he didn’t even bother trying to stop it. His eyes scanned the screen—searching for a clue that Kyle was also maybe trying his best not to dance— and he noticed he had 3% of battery life left on his laptop. 

“Ahhhh. Shit. I’m about to run out of battery. I should go. Sorry.”

“No, hey. It’s fine I—“

Dan interrupted Kyle to keep Kyle from bringing him back to reality. If he was going to crash out of the chat, Dan wanted the last thing he heard to be that Kyle missed him, too. His battery sank to 2% and Dan acted fast.

“Will you come to Jack’s as soon as they lift the non-essential work ban?” he blurted.

“What? And sing my bit in Spanish?” Kyle was joking with him again, just as Dan knew he would.

Dan grinned. “Obviously and because, well, I—“

And fuck. Dan’s computer went dead. Maybe it had given its life to protect him from saying things he couldn’t take back. Dan heaved an exasperated sigh as he went searching for his charger. His eyes settled on his phone which he found had an exorbitant 33% of battery life. 

Dan opened the text exchange with Kyle and debated on what to say next. He could be an idiot and play it safe, like he always had before. Or he could be an idiot and actually say what he wanted to say. 

He decided to be truthful and sent the text straight away before he could doubt himself.

**come to Jack’s to work on your bit  
and because I miss your face**

Dan was tired of hiding in plain sight.

**Author's Note:**

> -hope you all have enjoyed gift fic season as much as we have. I still have two more stories left to post. (and maybe a holiday themed code blue???)


End file.
